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In a little shop in Camden Market, Anjhkin sells his magic carpets. Tapestries of blue or purple or red or pink, daubed with intricate patterns and beset with
with elephants or giraffes, or a cacophony of flowers entwined in henna's cloak. And when you touched them, when fingers graced cloth, the animals would wink and the flowers rustle, little portals to far away kingdoms. I bought a red one, with a great soaring elephant, with purple wings and a golden saddle decorated with emeralds, and we sail on the winds of adventure. Many buy his carpets. And many are happy.

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